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HOLY BOOKS - EXCERPTS
Last Update: February 01. 2000

• Algor
• Church Tolmeti
• Pantheon of Rurga
• Church of Light & Dark
• Northern Gods
• Dragonwright
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Algor

Algor’s Hymnal

Forgotten by the forgotten god who created it, our world was inhabited only occasionally, and then only by birds who would only stop long enough to rest their wings.

Then, one day, a Wandering Albatross flew by. It soared over the dry, dead rock, looking for water, but found none at all in all the great world. Later, it complained to Algor, for it was one of Algor’s spies, describing the world as worthless. Curious about such a barren place, Algor came to the world and walked it, and found not a drop of water anywhere.

Perhaps, thought Algor, the water is underground, locked up in the rock. So Algor formed himself into ice, and struck the rock with his fist. With his first blow, Algor sent cracks through the entire world, and where he hit the rock it was smashed into sand, but nothing came out of the cracks. Algor went down on one knee, raised his fist over his head, and struck again. This time many of the cracks widened, and dark smoke poured forth.

Ah, thought Algor, this must be steam. A sign of water. And since he was made of ice he could not smell the brimstone in the gas. Then Algor came upon both his knees, clenched his two fists together, raised his hands far over his head, and smashed down, as hard as he possibly could.

Bam! The world erupted with bursts of flame and molten rock spilled forth. Startled, Algor was caught up in the fiery eruption (for this is how all the world’s volcanoes were first created), and the ice of his entire body turned into steam, spraying off in all four directions.

So vast was the cloud of steam that it blanketed the entire world, and shut it off from the sun. It took many years before the world cooled enough to allow the steam to form into clouds, and the clouds to let forth rain. But finally the rain came. And came and came, until the world was covered in water. Eventually the world cooled yet again, and great icebergs formed in the far north sea.

It was then that Algor reformed himself out of ice, taking away some of the water from the world, and causing land to form. He was a much smaller Algor, but he liked that a part of him was now the oceans, and the clouds, and the rain, so that he could see every part of the world. And ever since, Algor has been the watery part of the world.

– Algor’s Hymnal

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Church Tolmeti

Necromanak

As the blood of the last of the four hundred overflowed the gunnels, and as the assembled roared their approval, it was then that Tolmet did appear in all her glory, suspended over the steaming altar. There she stood, adorned with skulls, her fabled Seth-blade in her right hand, her left palm outward. All fell to their knees, and there was silence, save for the groaning of those few living sacrifices who had yet to expire.

"There are traitors among you," rang out the voice of the sublime goddess. Her word reached each ear with perfect clarity as she turned to the Supreme Necropolitan, "can you tell me who they are?"

The great man shook as he looked around wildly...

"You do not know?"

"Mistress..."

"A Necropolitan who does not know his Necropolis," said beautiful Tolmet, as the Necropolitan screamed silently, and faded away into the clutches of some dark shape, "is no Necropolitan at all," and he was gone.

"Divine One," came the voice of one of the high-ranked Exarchs, "I can point out those whom I suspect..."

"Suspect?" interrupted Tolmet. She pointed at the Exarch, and then his body exploded, his blood and parts sprayed those around him.

"If you do not know, then you would be wise not to speak."

– Necromanak

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Pantheon of Rurga

Ta’Palladia

My name is Rurga, although the people of the great sea call me Selaleena, and the horse-riding people call me Far-Rider, and the bent people who live under the ground call me Tishian’eyat, and in the far faerie lands they have many other names for me. Still, to the select, to the warriors who take sword in my name, my name is always Rurga.

You who listen know me. You have heard me howl in the winter winds. You have seen my wrath as the night takes the world from the sun. As a child you burned yourself on an open flame touching my flesh, and when you smell the air just before a lightning storm, there is my anger. My name is Rurga, and I am the goddess of those things, and all those things are signs of my place in your life.

Most of all, I am the goddess of truth.

Once, I was married and happy, and for the first time I found peace by the hearth. After a year, I asked my husband if he loved me with all his heart, and he said yes, and I put aside Ekenstall, my silver armor. After another year, I again asked my husband if he loved me with all his heart, and he said yes, and I made pegs and racked my weapons on the wall.

After the third year, when I was finally with child, I made a bed under the soil, so that Vlaa, my sword, the ever-wake, the demon-slayer, could finally sleep, and I made ready to disband my dark army, and I did many other things, all so that I might rest from being the embodiment of war. Finally, I came to my husband and asked him if he loved me with all his heart, and he said yes.

Husband, I said, unsheathing Vlaa, I must ask you again, do you love me with all your heart. And again he said yes. My name is Rurga, I said, and Vlaa wailed in my hands as I held it high over my husband’s head, and I am war itself, and if I am to change from that, I must hear truth from you. Wife, said my husband, it is time for you to put Vlaa to sleep, for I do love you with all my heart.

Liar, I whispered, and I do not know if he heard me, for the scream of Vlaa is never so terrible as when it must slay one of the righteous, and my first blow cleaved my husband’s head in two, and my second strike opened up his chest. I pierced his still beating heart with the point of Vlaa, and let the rest of his corpse fall to the ground.

If he had not been my husband, and my beloved, I would not have asked twice. Had he not been the father of the child in my belly, I would not have asked thrice. My name is Rurga, and my husband was the first I have ever let lie to me more than once, let alone three times.

I know that my husband was pure, and that is was only the love for my unborn child that kept him loving me with all his heart. If only he had spoken the truth.

My name is Rurga, the goddess of truth, and none can lie to me and live.

– Ta’Palladia

Once, when I was hunting vermin, I had taken only my bow, and just three of my arrows, and had forgotten my short knife. My first arrow was lost when I overshot, and it landed in a swamp. Then my second arrow came loose after I had used it on five different creatures, a squirrel, a rabbit, a lynx, another squirrel, and a raccoon, so I kept the head and the fletching, put them in my pouch, and threw away the shaft. Finally, a particularly large badger tried pulling itself underground, and I broke my last arrow against a rock.

So, when the snow tiger showed up, I wasn’t sure what to do.

It had beautiful fur, that tiger. Maybe the biggest tiger pelt I’ve ever seen. I really wanted wanted to hunt it, but I didn’t have any of the right weapons. Also, even though I can run faster than a snow tiger out in the open, snow tigers are really good at hiding and moving in thick forests, and that’s exactly where I was, in the middle of a thick forst.

Then I had a really good idea.

Instead of trying to hunt the tiger, I’d try to get the tiger to hunt me. Tigers, just like wolves, bears, lions, and lots of other hunting animals, usually look to hunt animals that are weak or sick. So I pretended to be afraid of the tiger, and then I started to limp.

Pretty clever, huh?

It worked, too! The tiger started stalking me, and I just kept limping away, trying to look really helpless.

I was all ready when the tiger took his leap. I had figured out just how I would turn, grab him by the throat, and break his neck.

Except the tiger didn’t land on my back.

No, the tiger grabbed my dead vermin. When I looked around, he was bounding away, the dead raccoon in his teeth, with all my other dead animals dangling on the same rope.

I ran after that tiger, but it was hopeless. It would just run in nastier and nastier bramble bushes, and all I was doing was getting scratched up. All I got out of the day’s worth of hunting was the two squirrels which had fallen off the rope when the tiger first grabbed it.

I guess that’s the end of my story. It would have been better if I had caught the tiger, and got that pelt, but sometimes hunting doesn’t turn out the way you think it will.

My name is Cirga.

– Ta’Palladia

My name is Panath. Don’t ask me about myself, for I have nothing to tell. I do not come here to answer questions about me.

Draw close and listen, for I have a tale to tell.

When Cirga was a child, stupid and rather slow, his mother, the bitch goddess Elengia, once left him at home, leaving him with the task of stirring the pot of souls. Cirga, left alone, eventually grew bored with simply stirring, and he got to playing with the spoon, enjoying the way the ships bounced when he created great ocean waves, and the way the forests bent when he sent storms upon them. Wilder and with more force, Cirga stirred, creating more and more chaos in his mother’s cauldron, until finally, two drops of the brew flew out.

One drop, containing the essence of a great mystery, landed upon Cirga’s finger, and the lad, unthinking as always, put the finger in his mouth. It was not until he had swallowed, and the taste faded from his tongue, that Cirga realized what he had done.

Run, Cirga’s brother told him, Run! And Cirga, realizing that he might be killed, ran.

Now Cirga, although not known for brains or cleverness, or any kind of wit, could certainly run. He ran across the four worlds, and just as he was tiring of his great run, he heard the black wings of his mother.

Even if he knew little else, Cirga knew that no runner can escape winged death, and so Cirga changed himself into a hawk, caught wind, and was away again, and escaped.

Elengia, wicked mother, cursed, and in so doing, killed all the living things around her. It was usually forbidden for her to slay her child, and if Cirga were to make an appeal to the elder gods, he might be pardoned, so she knew that she must find and kill him before he thought of how he might save himself.

Now, you and I know that Elengia could have taken her time and come up with a clever plan, for surely it would be avery long time before that dunce Cirga would realize that he needed to go to the elder gods. After all, Cirga had just run through all the four worlds, a journey a hundred times greater than that needed to get to the elder gods.

Elengia, in her haste and bloodlust, simply thought to trap Cirga, and as quickly as possible. What is Cirga’s weakness, she thought to herself, how might I catch him?

By becoming that which the hunter hunts, of course. And since Cirga had changed into a hawk, all Elengia would have to do would be to change herself into a dove. More than that, Elengia changed herself into many doves, scattering all over the four worlds.

Sure enough, within minutes, the hawk-that-was-Cirga dove down toward one of the doves-that-was-Elengia. And before Elengia could transform herself, for she had not given herself time to think of what form might be best for killing a hawk, Cirga killed her.

Cirga cheated, actually.

You see, the great mystery swallowed by Cirga was really the knowledge of his own destiny. He knew, in that instant, all the sorrows that would pain him for his everlasting life. Of the three great pains he would suffer, the first of them would be the taking of his mother’s life. Knowing that the dove was really Elengia, Cirga killed both the bird, and also killed the mind attached to the bird, leaving nothing of Elengia but all the doves that are now scattered across the four worlds-

My name is Panath. You may believe all that I say. You need not hear anything more.

– Ta’Palladia

Once I was flesh as you are flesh. I had thought myself indestructible, because I was a god, and because I was also a god of magic. In my pride I had forgotten that there are rules that bind even the gods. Break the rules, even by accident, and you become vulnerable to your enemies.

Sadly, my enemies were prepared. When I made my mistake, they were ready, and they crippled my powers, and destroyed my body, and nearly destroyed my soul.

One of my enemies is Panath. You could do better than to trust him. I am still searching for those who Panath recruited, those dark gods who stole away my power.

So, know two things when I come to you. First, know that I would offer you your heart’s desire, if only you will let me walk about in your body, and never for more than one day. Second, I know that I will pay any price to recover my power. Tell me of any dark gods you might find, tell me, and if they are those that I seek, then your reward will be beyond measure.

– Ta’Palladia

If you seek warmth, comfort, or easy victory, if you strike in haste, are quick to anger, and must do battle while your blood is hot, then turn away from me, and look to my mother, Rurga. She will warm you.

I am Lista, and I offer no heat.

Still, there are those who love me. I am beautiful, but not vain. Those who court me will not find me coy. I do not judge men, nor do I refuse them.

Come to me, kiss me. You will find that I am not without passion.

To my lovers, to those willing to listen to a cold woman, I offer wise counsel. I will show you how to destroy your enemies, how to scatter their armies, how to tumble their castles, how to make their soldiers cringe, how to dishearten their heroes, how to blind their officers, how to subvert their allies, and how to empty their treasuries. Finally, I will show you how to defeat them, utterly.

My lovers are often victorious, but rarely do they return to me. Be warned. Those who embrace me will become as I am, cold. When you are cold, you will lose fellowship, you will lose the easy comrades, and those who were once close will no longer trust you. It is the price you must pay for victory.

My name is Lista. Love me if you will. Do not expect me to love you.

– Ta’Palladia

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Church of Light & Dark

Book of Ma’at

... fire and water, my fellow Priests of Light and Dark, water and fire. Our Church has survived ten thousands years by the law of water and fire. If our Church is to survive another ten thousand, it must be by fire and water...

– the words of Demiurge P’tah, Book of Ma’at

"Lord Ra, we beseech you, if we are to carry out your will, we must have the coin to do so. Please, if you would have us fulfil your charge, supply us with the money we need."

There was a brief glittering, and one small silver coin appeared on the altar, so worn that one side could not be identified from the other.

The assembled worthies of the Church approached the coin in silence, and passed it around, speechless for fear of offending the deity, yet clearly disappointed at this meager miracle. Finally the Bishop of Kanshi, a Great Priest of Light, spoke out, calling again to his deity, "Great Ra, King of Kings, source of all that we cherish and love, mightiest of the host of the Forces of Light, I tremble to ask again, but it is gold we requires, new gold so that the Church’s multitudes might build a suitable temple to your glory."

This time there was a flash of light and the altar rang with the sound of a coin striking stone. This time the coin was of gold, and beautiful, newly minted, with the profile of hawk-headed Ra on one side, and an ornate sun disk engraved on the other. Again there was a nervous silence, and each one looked at the other, all in confusion.

While this coin is surely beautiful," someone said, in the softest of whispers, "I do not believe that it will suffice."

"Ah!" spoke the Acamarch, keeper of the church treasury, "I believe I see the problem. Holy Bishop, when you first addressed our great and wonderful God Ra, you did use the word coin. No doubt your use of the singular word was some sort of formal restriction on the beneficence of our benefactor. Try again, but specifically ask for coins, many, many coins."

All agreed with the Acamarch, and urged that the Bishop of Kanshi should try once again, this time being sure to specify a multitude of coins.

"Lord Ra?" asked the Bishop, for though he felt compelled to do this thing, or risk the loss of the respect of the elders of the Church, he still felt some uneasiness, "Limitless Divinity, Sacred Embodiment of the Sun, once again I call upon you. Once again I ask for your charity, so that we assembled here might do as you have bid. You have shown us your coin for our approval, and we answer you, yes! Yes! These are the coins we need. Ra! Grant us this wealth!"

Light exploded into the dark chamber and the whole of the ceiling opened, and there was an awful sound, a sound like that of a landslide, but instead of pebbles it was coins that came down. Millions and millions of beautiful coins, each bearing the likeness of Ra, coming down in such numbers that the Bishop, and the Acamarch, and all the elders of that Church were crushed instantly.

When their broken bodies were unburied and brought forth, it was decreed that the coins would be used to build more than a temple, but a temple city, and so it was that Sekti-Abtu came to be.

– 19^th parable, Book of Ma’at

In my dream I found myself walking the streets of a dark city, surrounded by throngs of shadowy folk, some of whom I knew to be dead, and others as alive as gods. There was a great palace, and a wolf-headed figure was looking down, but I knew that I should not stare, so I looked back down, and around me.

At every doorway I was welcomed and given a glimpse inside, and each glimpse revealed some delight, including treasures, women, halls of sport or gambling, or entertainments. Then a woman beckoned, and I looked inside at the most fabulous banquet I had ever seen. As I smelled succulent meat, I looked past the smiling maids, and saw that in the center of the room there was a great fire, over which there was a man, bound and turning on a spit. I suddenly glimpsed his face, the face of my employer, the face of the man I hated most in all the world, screaming in pain and in terror

I awoke.

– Stories of Neter-Khertet, Sermons of Set, Book of Ma’at

Chapter of the Dead

We are Cynopolis. We are the City of the Dead. Living Emperors, so mighty in their Western Empire, are often worshipped as unto gods. In Cynopolis there are no gods, save Dark Anubis. When their funeral barge passes across the Sea of Scarlet Waters, they leave all godhood behind, whether as a worshipped, or as worshipper. In this place the Emperors, Pontiffs, and all the great ones of the world are at rest. We, known as the Jackals, the Priests of Anubis, are guardians of their glorious tombs, or of their humble graves. We are the keepers of the dead. We are the servants of Anubis. We are Cynopolis.

– Chapter of the Dead, Book of Ma’at

Oh Amon, you know that I am deformed. You know that they mock me in the streets and in the taverns. I would hide, as you have hidden, Amon. I would have vengeance, as you have had vengeance. Give me strength, Amon. I give you offerings, for only you know my pain.

Death to my enemies, and to those who mock me, and all honor to Amon.

– Chapter of the Dead, Book of Ma’at

"Father of us all, give us leave to drive out Upuat, the wolf-headed one, for he causes such trouble in the realm of my Anubis and I."

Thus did Nephthys, goddess of the dead, wife and sister to Osiris, mother of Anubis, did implore the great Ra. For years Ra was vexed, for in those days he was smitten with a secret love, a goddess of a far land, and he did not want to turn his attention back to his own kingdom. Eventually, tired of his daughter’s constant entreaties, he finally gave his assent, and allowed that if Upuat could be found, then he would leave it to Nephthys to administer punishment, but that he washed his hands of all of it, and that he would turn his eyes from the Underworld entirely, and that he wished to hear no more of the matter until Nephthys could return and tell him that it was all complete.

So Nephthys turned from the golden one, and smiled, happy that she had finally gained power that she had so long sought.

Indeed, Nephthys was too satisfied. She did not see how her son Anubis looked at Set, and how the two of them did nod in secret agreement. And when she saw that Anubis was pleased, well, she thought that he was pleased for her.

Neither did she think anything amiss when Anubis announced that the hunting party was ready. So impressed she was, that her son had managed to assemble such mighty ones as Anhur, Bes, Ammit, and even Apepi, the dragon, that she did not even ask what had become of her gatekeeper and bodyguard, Sekhir. Eager to set out, before Upuat might have a chance to escape, she took the lead, and allowed the others at her back.

(...)

– Underworld Tales, Book of Ma’at

The Holy Records

I, Demiurge Laesto, do hereby report to the Holy Pontiff of the Church of Light and Dark, in response to your most urgent inquiry concerning the advance of those from the east, who call themselves the Crusaders of Dragonwright, and of those from the west, who call themselves the Army of Styphon. Why, you have asked, are there two armies, both marching under the banner of the same god, the God-Dragon Styphon?

From the archives I can tell you how it may have come to be.

It would seem that the faith of Dragonwright did first start somewhere in the southern foothills of Mount Nimro, either before, or shortly after, The Battle of the Gods, some 80.000 or 90.000 years ago (your Holiness will forgive the inexactitude, but the records of the Dragon Church were not, and are not, up to our standards).

Sometime after that period, there were at least two great pilgrimages, one to the east, to somewhere in the Old Kingdom, and another to the west, into what is now the southern coast of the Yin-Sloth.

While the original Dragon Church died, the two branches prospered, then grew, and again send out pilgrims. In the west, over the millennia, the Chief Temple (for the western branch became, as it still is, a religion of temple builders) was moved west, at least twice, and then moved north, across the sea, into what is now the Western Empire.

Meanwhile, in the east, Dragonwright settled into the Old Kingdom, and became an established Church.

And so things remained, with neither Dragon Church remembering the others, for tens of thousands of years. When the Age of Elves ended, both Dragon Churches had been completely destroyed. Our own records report that not a single Dragon Priest remained. Yet, two hundred years later, our records tell us that Churches of the Dragon had sprouted (you will excuse the expression, Holy Pontiff, but I can not restrain myself), had sprouted like dragon’s teeth.

Would that I could tell you all the stories of Dragonwright reborn, and of Dragonwright at war, or of Dragonwright in decline. Each new birth would come from some new reading of The Book of Dragonwright, from the discovery of one of their fabled relics, or...

Germane to our situation, I have found evidence of two wars, both caused by the migration of movements toward the center of the world. The first, and most famous, was a battle that took place at the gates of the Western Empire, and it lasted at least three years and left over two million dead (yes, Holy Pontiff, I know that number seems exaggerated, but it is from our own Church records). The second, longer and even more bloody, involved a war that raged over much of the Northern Wilderness when missionaries from both the Dragonwright of the Western Empire, and from the Eastern Territories, moved north. The outcome, it would seem, is still in doubt.

I could go on, but ink is precious, and I have little more to add but useless details.

As to which army is which, Holy Pontiff, I can not tell you, for I am a good servant of the Church of Light and Dark. I know, as the Tristine Chronicles tells us, that these two armies will clash, and clash in a most bloody way. The way of Dragonwright.

– from the Holy Records of the Church of Light and Dark

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Northern Gods

Book of Od

... keep your blades sharp, and your larder well filled. The day of armageddon, of ragnarok, of ca’espua is coming upon us. Soon the gods will be at war, as their many enemies will unite. You will not be spared. As worshippers of Od, you must be destroyed as well. Prepare your arrows for the coming giants, your spears for the trolls, your traps for the dragons, and your axes for those who would come from below. If our faith is to survive its burning fater, you must be ready. The great battle is coming to us all...

– Book of Od

The seven dragons, known as Alowezzez, Chararik, Fraggiesh, Natachaldas, Ragnach, Rignamar, and Unyag, mightiest of all, gathered themselves outside the house of Od, safe in the invisibility they gained from having sipped from the Drum Pool. They whispered to each other, each finishing the other’s thought, in the ways of dragons.

He sleeps... sleeps, but we do not... know if it is... dangerous? What matters danger when... seven of us! He... doomed he is, as the message from the cursed, wicked... Na’runs!... we cannot trust... Na’runs are evil!... but what difference... Od sleeps, and is... helpless, so we should attack!... Attack!... Kill him!... Attack... Now...

In their way, they agreed, and all seven dragons turned to the house, and poured their hellfire upon it, and it ignited. Od’s house was burning furiously, and the dragons watched silently as someone inside seemed to stir. There was a furious yelling, and a thumping around. Obviously Od was trapped. Still the dragons waited.

Suddenly, the timbers in the ceiling groaned, and were pushed upward. Something inside was growing, expanding, becoming huge.

Shifting... using his... taking on another... larger form, maybe a form that... against fire, he would... Od is clever...

And then the roof broke open, and a dragon’s head came out, followed by a dragon’s neck, and dragon’s body.

Dragon! Dragon... Od has... to a dragon form... Clever, is our enemy... resistant... He must... Die! Od must... we are seven, he is... Attack! Attack! Kill him...

The seven dragons leaped and clawed, pushing the shape-shifter back into the inferno. One took hold of the neck, another an arm, and a third ripped apart a wing, while all the rest clawed and tore, dragon claws rending dragon scale.

Look! Od is... is dead, and... how can it still... in dragon form... should have changed... Od is... Was! Was... Powerful, was Od... and flavorful... eating this form... Why not? Od was... Eat! Eat!

Tearing away great chunks, the dragons feasted on the body until nothing but dragon bones remained. Bloated, the dragons stretched themselves, and some fell to sleeping. Only Unyag, seemed unaffected, and he started to dig through the burning remains, as if searching for something.

At this, first one, then another dragon stirred, their greed awakened.

What... treasure? Are you... know that Od kept... Treasure.

Then Unyag grasped hold of something, and the other six, barely able to move, twisted their long necks around to see. The great clawed hand of Unyag took hold of an object, and held it aloft.

What... this thing, we have seen... sword, it is, Od’s... not to touch! It... The Dragon Slayer! Dangerous! No!

And it was too late. Od changed back from his disguise as Unyag, holding the great sword of Ghundeg. The dragons, bloated and with all their hellfire spent, watched first Chararik, and then Natachaldas were slain, their heads seperated from their bodies.

You have helped me kill Unyag, placed her in my form, and I have killed those two who attacked my followers, said O. Tell me, why should I not kill you as well?

Pact... No choice... will be bound, by Od’s... This, we swear... Oath! Oath! Oath! Oath! Of binding!... to Od!

– Book of Od

My son, I present to you my second son, said mighty Od, to the hosts assembled.

Would that he be a little less fiery than the first one, came a voice, to which there was much laughter, and then another voice said, yes, let this be not another Locknar.

What’s wrong with another Locknar, came Locknar’s childish voice, I think another Locknar would be quite nice.

And all roared with laughter, and all filled their cups and drank to Od’s new son.

What are you doing with my son, came a voice from the back of the room.

And there stood Epim, tall and proud and regal, but still white and shaking from the rigors of birth, her gown stained with drops of blood.

Wife, wife, said Od, he is beautiful! You have made me a son.

I asked, what are you doing with my son? You have yet to answer me. And, I might add, I gave you a son last time, so this one...

There was a hush, and all saw that Od was growing red with anger.

This one, said Epim, according to your agreement, is my son.

I would name my own son, said Od.

No, not this one. This one is mine to name. If you name him you will do it wrongly.

I will not.

Od, husband, give me my son.

What say you, my warriors, do I not have the right to name my own son?, to which there was loud agreement, but not universal, and many, including Od’s right-hand, Vallisque-Tan, and even Belimar, tried to reach Od’s side so that they might dissuade them from continuing. But the press of those around Od was too great.

Across the room, seeing what was about to happen, tears streamed down the face of Epim, and some tried to raise their voice against Od, but it was too late.

My son, bellowed Od, I do name you Hoknar.

There was silence, save that the child started to cough, and then cried aloud.

You have erred, said Epim quietly, you have named him wrongly.

Wife, said Od, softly, surely you can name the next one?

I have born you two sons, said Epim, and I will never bear you another.

And she never did.

– Book of Od

Giants!

There was nothing that could be done. Belimar waited, hoping that his light was not an offense to the fire giants. When it seemed that a dozen or more had gathered, one spoke.

Tiny one, do you come from Hoknar?

No, Brother Giant, I know Hoknar, but I do not come from him.

That is good, for we are forsworn against Hoknar, who has killed many of us. Do you come from Od? Or Locknar? Or Epim?

Brother Giant, I come from none of them. I come to you as Belimar, dwarf, and mage. I seek something within this cave.

A dwarf? One of those that lives, like maggots, burrowing in the body of the frost giant? If you are of those dwarves, we are enemies forsworn.

Brother Giant, I am not of those dwarves, but I would advise you not to insult them again.

See, then, Brother Dwarf, that I am ten times you height, am I not?

Brother Giant, I am sure that you are more than ten times my height. You are tall, even for a giant.

Brother Dwarf, know that I am but one of a hundred others, each as tall as I. Why should I not insult such wee folk as you?

Can you see me well?

Brother Dwarf, with your strange light I do see you exceedingly well.

Then watch.

And Belimar removed his left eye, and showed it to the fire giants, and all that he asked for was given to him.

- Book of Od

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Dragonwright

Book of Dragonwright

The Beginning

The dragon who gives breath, who gives strength, whose command all the bright and dark gods revere, whose shadow is immortality, whose breath is death: To the Dragon we offer sacrifice!

The dragon’s power is sole king of the living and undead world governs all this, man, beast, undead and demon: To the Dragon we offer sacrifice!

The dragon is mighty snow mountains, vast oceans, distant rivers, whom all religions are indeed arms of the dragon: To the Dragon we offer sacrifice!

The dragon made the awful heaven and the worlds fast, through whom the ethereal is established, and who measures all things: To the Dragon we offer sacrifice!

The dragon maintains existence by force of will, look up trembling at the rising sun and hope that ye are not forgotten: To the Dragon we offer sacrifice!

May the dragon not forget us, the begetter of the worlds, or the righteous, or the creator of heavens, bright and mighty waters: To the Dragon we offer sacrifice!

– The Beginning, Book of Dragonwright

From the terror the fire burns, from the terror, the sun burns, from the terror of Styphon and Zandragal comes the terror of Death, always the fifth dragon.

The form of beyond is not to be seen. No one holds him with the eye. Imagine this in your heart, by wisdom, by the upper mind. Only Kormath can share this. Those who know this, are immortal.

May the unborn, and that which is beyond the unborn, protect us all! May we be enjoyed! May we take strength together! May our knowledge be the knowledge of birth! May we never dissolve! Peace! Peace! In the name of Dragonwright let us have peace!

– The Beginning, Book of Dragonwright

Would you have victory? came the voice of Zandragal, shaking the walls of the temple.

Yes, mighty Zandragal, replied the Priest of Zandragal, god of war, give us victory.

Then I will need blood. I will need sacrifice. Human sacrifice.

The Priest of Styphon turned to the Priest of Kormath.

Our god, Styphon...

Your god! yelled the Priest of Kormath.

No. Our god, said the Priest of Zandragal, god of war to all who follow Dragonwright, our god asks for sacrifice. You have resisted before, but the need is great. If we do not win this battle, our enemy will destroy our new nation. Our god, our god of war, asks for sacrifice. Will you allow it?

I... I have no choice. It is wrong, but I... I will allow it.

Lord Zandragal! cried the Priest of Zandragal, up to the skies, we agree! We agree! We will give you blood, we will give you sacrifice.

See that you give me enough, boomed Zandragal, if I am not given enough I can not defeat the Old One.

We will give you enough, and the Priest of Zandragal stopped and thought. He asked, How much is enough? How much do you need?

How many are you? How many are in the army of Dragonwright?

Over one hundred thousand, Lord Zandragal. Perhaps a few more...

One out of ten, came the voice of the God-Dragon.

What, said the Priest of Zandragal, what do you mean?

One out of ten, my Priest, sacrifice one out of every ten, of all your armies. Then, then I will give you victory.

The Dawn, Book of Dragonwright

Instructions to the Warrior

Zandragal, god of war, is all wise. Heed the thoughts of Zandragal. Read, listen, learn, for the ways of war are not the ways of killing. The ways of war are not the ways of violence. The ways of war are not the ways of anger.

War, when pursued in the holy name of Zandragal, exists only to be won. To lose at war is to lose the favor of Zandragal. Therefore, let those who play Zandragal’s game, play it by Zandragal’s rules...

– Instructions to the Warrior, Book of Dragonwright

The Holy Records

How fares our army?

Well! The soldiers are eager for battle.

It does not bother them that our enemy also calls itself Dragonwright, that they worship Kym-nark-mar as we do, that they sacrifice to Zandragal, as we do, that they bury their dead in the name of Styphon, as we do?

They are blasphemers! They have read the book wrongly!

Yes, I know that, and you, but we are the learned ones, you and I, who can read the words ourselves. Of course we are the true faith, and those others but a cult, a blood-cult. I know, and you, but do the soldiers know?

They know. From across the valley they can hear the cants of our enemy. All who have ears have heard. Our army is outraged! General, if you were to turn back now, they would not follow, but attack on their own...

So they believe?

That the enemy calls Korameth by the false name... I choke to speak such blasphemy... Kormath. Yes, they believe. And tomorrow they will destroy the false ones...

– from the Holy Records of Dragonwright

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No samples available from:

The Church of Light & Dark

Aco & the Juggernaut

Citations

Chantico

Chantico Thought (995 pg)

Kirgi the Rat God

Kirgi Futurious

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